Breadsticks at Olive Garden
by shark-princess
Summary: Weiss ends up in a tricky dilemma, and her last resort is going to Olive Garden with Blake for a special kind of stick. Weiss/Blake. Monochrome.


**Author's Note : Hello, lovely people. I was in the mood to write something but I had no ideas, so I went on Tumblr to procrastinate for a bit and came up with some sort of idea. **

**Hope you enjoy!**

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"Remind me why we're here again?" Blake asked quietly, amber eyes analyzing the large, infamous American-Italian restaurant with an equal balance of suspicion and confusion. Weiss had randomly texted her that morning, begging her to come meet her at Olive Garden. But when a scared-to-death, ready-for-an-emergency Blake arrived at the restaurant, Weiss refused to give her the details.

"What do you think we're doing here, silly?" Weiss forced a scarily violent smile. "A date, of course!"

Flustered, Blake felt her heart skip a beat, her voice catching in her throat. "Y-You never told me this was a da—"

Before she could finish stuttering with shock, Weiss grabbed Blake's hand in a death grip, like how she handled Myrtenaster before an important battle. "Ow!" Blake tried to jerk her hand away, but Weiss wasn't letting go of it for a second. "Well at least treat your date a bit more gently," she muttered under her breath.

"Hi, ladies! Welcome to Olive Garden! Is it just the both of you today?" the pretty waitress asked.

"Actually, I have a reservation," Weiss explained, her voice unusually friendly and charming. Blake stifled a laugh. Talk in a tone like that all the time and maybe she could've come off as pleasant. It seemed almost believable.

"Your name?"

"Weiss. Weiss Schnee."

The waitress scanned the screen in front of her, eyes brightening up. "Ah, Ms. Schnee! Pleasure to have you here! We have a table for two ready just for you." She looked up from the monitor to Weiss' gaze, beaming. "Right this way, if you please!"

The woman headed off through the network of tables, Weiss yanking Blake along. "Yeah, right this way, Blake," she said aggressively in a smile through her gritted teeth.

Blake rolled her eyes to the sky. "Weiss, you don't have to be so rough, you know!" A group of teenagers looked up from their table as they walked past and snickered. "What kind of ulterior motive are you plotting?"

Weiss ignored her question when the waitress seated them down at one of the private booth tables in the back of the restaurant. They faced each other awkwardly as the waitress asked for drinks. "Just water is fine," Weiss replied quickly, sounding even more chipper, as if trying to be so sweet as to shoo the woman away.

After the waitress left, Blake smacked a hand on the table. "What is this all about, Weiss?! You're acting tense, rude, and like this is a super important matter." She leaned over the laminated wood, eyebrows furrowed. "Care to spill?"

Weiss hardly looked up at her, she was too busy messing with her purse.

"Here's the deal, Blake. You know how I haven't mentioned my family in 2 months?"

Blake shrugged. "Yeah… sure. Whatever. What does that have to do with this?"

"Well, see, the thing is—" Weiss rearranged some of the items inside of her expensive, overpriced Gucci bag, its leather gleaming under the lights. "I've had a bit of a disagreement with my parents recently. Truth be told, I deserved it: I ended up coming off as too much of a brat and it ruined me. Anyway, the thing is is that they've decided to punish me by cutting off my personal bank account from me."

"They what?" Blake stood back up straight, eyes wide and full of sympathy. "Weiss, I'm so sorry. That must be horrible. How are you going to get around without your money?"

Weiss laughed, still fumbling inside the purse. "That's the important part, actually. Because you see, I've recently run a bit low on my emergency back-up finances: and as you know, getting a job has been a bit… difficult. Being a sword-wielding company heiress hasn't exactly gotten me any good, everyday job qualities. Haven't I told you before?"

"Well then what the hell are we doing here?!" Blake demanded. "You shouldn't be in some high-class Italian restaurant looking for good cuisine that isn't for cheap! I hope you're not desperate and expecting me to pay for the meal!"

"No, Blake!" Weiss protested. She dropped her purse on the booth seat beside her and clasped Blake's hand. She felt herself blush. "Oh my goodness, that is definitely not what this about. I would never ever do something like that to you. Even I wouldn't stoop that low." She grinned. "I got Jaune to loan me some money yesterday to pay for the reservation. You won't have to put forth a penny."

She blinked as Weiss stared deeply into her gaze, trying to ignore the fact that Weiss had basically used Jaune for cash. "T-Then… why are we here?"

"Hello, Ms. Schnee! I've brought you both your waters, as well as a basket of breadsticks as a nice appetizer!" The waitress placed 2 wet glasses full of water and ice on the table with a red plastic basket filled with oily, salty breadsticks. "Now then." The woman took out a tiny notebook and pen, giving a big smile. "Have you both decided what you're going to order?"

She eyed the basket hungrily. "Not yet, actually," Weiss responded kindly. "I hate to ask this, but could you come by in another few minutes? We haven't gotten the chance to choose…"

"That is perfectly all right, Ms. Schnee!" The waitress tossed it off like it was no big deal. "You two just take as much time as you need. And if you need anything, make sure to call me! But I'll visit in a few!" She took off down the aisle.

Weiss let out a sigh of relief. Then she shot Blake a cold, hard stare. "Now, quick; put all the breadsticks in your purse. Right. Now."

Blake didn't budge. "…What?"

Without a second of hesitation, Weiss launched over the table, using one hand to grab Blake's shoulder and the other to grab her chin. Blake swallowed, the blood running to her cheeks as she felt Weiss' warm breath on her face. "W-What are y—"

"Blake Belladonna, I do not have time for any attitude whatsoever right now. My phone bill is nearly depleted, my rent is late by two weeks, and my food resources are so small that I've had to fast for two days just to keep going. I swear to fucking God that if you don't put as many breadsticks as you can in your purse right now, I am going to starve to death for the next few weeks without being able to afford health care to nurse me back to life, and my passing will be entirely your fault and no one else's."

She let go of Blake and looking around quickly to see if anyone was watching, started grabbing two breadsticks from the basket at a time and stuffing them in her Gucci purse. Her movements were quick, sharp, and frantic, as if her entire life depended on it.

Which it seemed to, unfortunately.

Blake was so stunned by Weiss pulling a charade like this that she almost would've laughed out loud: but she was certain that Weiss would stop what she was doing and slap her right across the face if she did. Although somewhat reluctant, she copied her movements and started putting the breadsticks in her own bag.

Once the basket was empty, Weiss locked eyes with Blake. "Okay," she murmured in a hushed tone, "on the count of 3—"

"I'm back, Ms. Schnee! Are you ready to place your order—?" The waitress stopped abruptly, the smile melting off her face.

Weiss took a hold of Blake's hand and pulled her to her feet while simultaneously breaking into a sprint. "Run!"

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 **Well that was it! Liked it? Didn't like it? Feel free to let me know by leaving a review; it helps me out a lot, and trust me, I could use some feedback or advice, being the flawed author that I am... Have a nice day, and thanks for reading!**


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